


Intermission

by Psychopersonified



Series: Kidnapped!Q [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Intermission to Kidnapped!Q series.Bond and Q have a brief conversation about the aftermath and regaining their banter.A healing process if you will.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Kidnapped!Q [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782712
Comments: 14
Kudos: 116





	Intermission

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to include this in the previous update, but thought the humour would be out of place in the more serious tone of the episode.  
> Anyway enjoy this short one.

Intermission

“James…?” Q shakes him awake gently. 

“Hmm?” He rouses, uncurling from his sleeping position on the cot in medbay. “What is it? You alright?” His voice is sleep rough. 

“Not really…” Q confesses. Another not quite nightmare - he hadn’t actually fallen asleep. More of a brewing anxiety attack. He climbs into the too small cot into James’ arms, ignoring the creaking protest of the foldout cot. He’s shaking again, feeling brittle and breakable. 

Q’s thankful that James opted to stay with him here instead of going home. Any other time, Q might have dismissed him so that he gets a good night's sleep in a proper bed. But he knows his own limits, as much of a brave face he puts up, he’s still suffering the emotional aftermath of the ordeal. 

And the whole affair is not finished yet. Alistair is still roaming free and $PECTRE continues operations and trading. In fact it’s grown even further - pushing out older cryptocurrencies. The market is hailing it as the biggest coup in the crypto world to date. 

James wraps heavy arms around him as he snuggles close. “Do you want your anxiety meds?” Bond offers. 

He shakes his head, “They make me fuzzy.” After a pause, he sighs explosively. “I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin. All this waiting and not doing anything.”

Bond knows how he feels. Alistair had profited from all of this. Sure he can’t come back to the UK, and he’s on the Interpol list, but he’d planned all of that. His superyacht provides him with immense freedom. He could be anywhere in the world by now. 

Q had offered to shut down $PECTRE, by spoofing his own Oracle to return a ‘dead’ status and thereby crippling the Smart Contracts. But a last minute injunction from the Foreign Secretary himself forced them to put this plan on hold. Turns out the Americans had reached out asking for more time to consider. 

_Oh, the irony!_ $PECTRE had grown ‘too big to fail’ - the idea of wiping out billions of dollars in value overnight in a global economy tethering on recession gives everyone pause. It was no longer just the terrorist money that is involved in $PECTRE, but ordinary market investors - businesses and hedge funds holding $PECTRE securities, to mom and pops parking their 401k or superannuation or pension money into this in hopes of a high return. Then there is the additional complexity of having a number of $PECTRE accounts holding large numbers of shares in Fortune 500 companies in return. Fuelling a gratuitous cycle of an ever growing financial bubble. 

Alistair knew this would happen, it was his plan all along to hide the dirty money along with the legitimate ones - making it nearly impossible to detangle. The risk of collateral damage would give him a measure of protection. This whole debacle was turning out to be worse than everyone thought. In almost every practical sense, Alistair got away with this scot-free. 

“James… I’m sorry. For being an absolute arsehole to you this week. I don’t know why I’m still mad at you. Maybe I’m just taking out my frustrations on you.” 

The arms around him tighten. “Would it help if I let you sock me in the face? 

“I’d like to punch Alistair in the face.” Q sniffles. 

“Might want to leave that to me. I have other plans for him,” James says casually. 

“Oh? Like what?” 

“Not telling. Might be against the Geneva Conventions. Don’t want you caught up in it.” 

“Funny. A regular comedian. Well, as long as you don’t die in the process and leave me alone with all the paperwork,” Q retorts sarcastically. 

“Sorry, was that supposed to be an incentive or a deterrent not to die?”

“James!” 

The man’s rumbling laughter vibrates though him. 

“James… will you really kill him?”

“If I have orders to, undoubtedly.”

“But what if you don’t? And you met him again?” 

“Hmmm… I might have to try very very hard not to. Or not try hard at all, depends on how you see it. Why?”

“Is it bad that I want him dead? I don’t care if he’s not done enough to warrant a death penalty, I just want him gone. I don’t want him tortured or imprisoned, I just want him to disappear, to not exist. I want to feel safe again. Do you know what I mean?” Q turns in his embrace to bury his face in James’s neck. 

“I don’t know if I can walk down any street again and not panic at the feel of someone brushing past or the sight of a white van, or be in a room with a stranger and not be clawing for the exit,” just saying it makes Q start to hyperventilate. 

“How do you even cope?” Q whispers brokenly. 

“Shhhh…” James rubs his back. “First of all, I’m not a good example. We Double-Os were picked because we have a screw loose.” That elicits a snorting half-sob half-laugh from Q. 

“Second, you take it one day at a time. Count the victories, not the failures.” He kisses Q on the temple. “There’s no time limit, it’s not an exam. Go at your own pace.” Q nods into his chest. “Though knowing you, you’ll try to outperform all the others in your therapy group.” 

“ _Sir? Sir? Dr Epstein, see here - I made an App that makes it easier to log my moods and I get a badge for every 10% increase in positive moods over a consecutive weekly average..._ ” James does a terrible impression of him.

Q laughs outright this time even in his morose state, giving Bond a playbite on the collarbone to punish him for the awful impression. “There’s already an App for that,” he points out.

“Ouch.... Really? And here I thought I was being clever.”

“Hmm.. don’t hurt yourself trying. Though I could link it to the Smart Blood Programme and feed in the cortisol data. I could make it send a notification if it saw a spike in stress hormones signalling an impending anxiety attack.”

The warmth of James’ bubbling laughter calms him, makes him feel normal again, snapping him out of the anxious state. 

“Feeling better?”

Q nods burrowing further into the warm embrace.

“Good. But now we have to move,” James says urgently. The creaking of the cot is getting louder, and he can feel the metal legs splaying in a direction it’s not supposed to. 

“Up, up,” he prods a sluggish Q who protests at needing to be moved from his cocoon. 

Before James can explain, the cot gives up and folds in on itself, collapsing under their combined weight. They fall the short foot to the floor, tangled in each other and the cot. 

A pause and they both burst out laughing unreservedly until tears fill their eyes. Q’s laughter pulls at his stitches, but the more he tries to stop himself, the more he can’t stop. It feels so good to laugh! After the hell of the last few weeks, this comical respite is exactly what was needed. 

The spring-loaded cot has them trapped and James has to pry the legs open so that Q can crawl out. He’s halfway out, scrabbling on the medbay floor when nurse Maria walks in to check on the noise. 

Neither of them is in a position of any dignity. Q on his stomach on the floor, James on his back with his arms and legs in the air, bracing against the spring-loaded cot. 

Maria has her fists on her hips, giving James the evil eye. 

“I _swear_ to you, it’s not what you think.” He defends himself from his prone position. Not even his Double-O charm can get him out of this one.

Maria helps her patient back into bed, tucks him in and fusses around for a bit. All the while ignoring James who is struggling with extricating himself in the background. 

With a final noisy effort, he escapes the human mousetrap, pushing aside the offensive tangle of flimsy metal barely qualified to be called furniture with his foot. He springs back up and brushes himself off, regaining his composure with admirable speed. 

James then comes over and makes to climb into the hospital bed, earning him a rap on the knuckles and a terse cluck from Maria. 

“But…” he regards her with indignation. Their silent battle of the wills lasts until she leaves the room. If it weren’t for Q being in such a fragile state, she would likely have kicked him out. 

After years of circling each other, James comes to the conclusion, “I don’t think she likes me very much.” He lowers the hospital bed and climbs in. 

Q scoots over, agreeing with him, “Hmm, she doesn’t think you’re good enough for me. Something to do with you being a tomcat or a gigolo who lives off the money of wealthy older women.

“What? How the hell did she come to that conclusion?” James huffs, truly indignant now. 

“Because Alec loves to needle her with that story and the two of you joined about the same time? 

“So I’m guilty by association?”

“Well, you can’t deny that in your first few years the both of you racked up the highest number of STD tests.”

“Yes, but—… It was part of the job!” He struggles with the covers Maria had so neatly tucked around Q, before slipping under it to join him. The hospital bed is still too small, but at least it was sturdier. 

“When M said to get the information by all means necessary - did the both of you think it was a euphemism for ‘get your appendages out’ ?”

“She never said ‘not’ to get our members out. She should have been a lot more specific if she wanted us to use some _other_ means…” James shimmies under the covers as he tells his story.

“I remember right, this one specific Russian matron. Oh, she was _insatiable_! It took both Alec and me all night to wear her down. Wrung both of us dry. I thought I’d never recover the use—…mmph!” Q slaps a hand over his mouth. 

“Nope! Don’t need the details.” 

There is a mischievous glint in his eyes, James licks the hand covering his mouth. “Ugh!” Q draws his hand away quickly and wipes it on James’ sweatshirt sleeve, “Keep your biohazards to yourself.” 

“That would complicate a relationship, wouldn’t it?” James quips back cheekily, spooning up behind him. 

James picks up the remote, the telly in the recovery room is still on but muted - tuned to BBC’s 24hour rolling news channel. He’d meant to switch it off, but Q stays his hand, curious about the coverage. It’s morning in Asia and the news is recapping events the night before. 

A power outage in Hong Kong’s affluent Gold Coast Marina neighbourhood caused by a massive fire that destroyed the marina’s clubhouse and parts of the pier. Several boats were damaged in the incident as well. A suspected electrical overload. 

Both Q and James sit up to watch with interest. “He can't be stupid enough to still be in Hong Kong.”

“Or desperate enough…” They both scan the footage for signs of Alistair’s superyacht. Nothing that they can see. 

James slides out of bed, “I’ll call Ops and have them send someone to check it out. You go back to sleep.” 

—TBC—


End file.
